Motive
by Leah Naberrie
Summary: Sleeping with his primary suspect's wife had been about the most inane thing Michael Cordero Jnr had ever done in his life – and this was something coming from a guy who had been one crime and one brother short of a prison record. (AU)


**MOTIVE**

Sleeping with his primary suspect's wife had been about the most inane thing Michael Cordero Jnr had ever done in his life – and this was something coming from a guy who had been one crime and one brother short of a prison record.

Michael couldn't even tell himself that it was an accident, a caught up in the moment mistake that won't repeat himself. He had known exactly what was going to happen when he went to her hotel room to 'question' her. Had felt that draw between them from the moment he first laid eyes on her two weeks ago, sipping champagne at that bar with that expression of utter boredom hiding the immense pain in her eyes.

If he was the kind of man who reflected on these things, he'd wonder if he had some sort of savior complex. If her pain that was so obvious to him, and yet so clearly hidden from everyone else, had drawn him to her. At least, drawn him more than her heart-shaped, heartbreakingly beautiful face, or that body that was built to make men go mad.

But MIchael wasn't a reflective man. And the moment he walked through that door, and she had reached for him, and they had been too hot for each other to make it to the bed – hadn't been much time for reflection.

The second time, he hadn't even given himself some kind of excuse. He had called her half-drunk – and it had been years since Michael had drank – all but begging to see her again. She hadn't come to him that night, but the next day, she had shown up in his dingy apartment, and he was self-conscious about that – how his place looked compared to the palace that was her Marabella suite. Yes, he knew from his research about her – which he had done for his case, not because he had been stalking her! – that she had come from humble beginnings. But that had been years ago.

But she hadn't noticed the cheap furniture, or the clothes hastily thrown behind the sofa. She had peeled off her bulky overcoat to reveal nothing but knee-high boots. Michael hadn't been able to bury his face between her glorious thighs fast enough.

That was two weeks and many stolen moments ago. Most of the time they met in his place. But occasionally, it was at the Marabella, when Rafael Solano was away on 'business'. Michael had become very invested in knowing all the details of Rafael's movements but for all the wrong reasons. He wished he could say it was just physical – a mad attraction that made him go against everything he believed in, but then afterwards, when they lay wrapped up in each other, she'd talk to him about her life – before Rafael – when it was just her and her mother, making ends meet and Michael would talk to her about his own life, when he was a screwed up kid, and he'd feel a connection with her that he had never felt with anyone else before.

What he had first told himself was just sex, had obviously turned into more. He couldn't do without this woman, his time apart from her a shadow-existence until the next time he could see her again.

Now, in the early hours of the morning she was getting ready to leave. She had pulled out what looked like a silky handkerchief from her handbag that had turned out to be a silky, slinky wrap dress. Which had been something of a relief to him. Because if she had tried to leave the house the same way she came, Michael didn't think he'd have been able to let her.

"So… a friend of mine has this place outside the city," he said, watching her slip into her boots. He cleared his throat when she turned to face him, her dark, intelligent eyes sharp. "Quiet, remote. I was wondering… I've got Monday off." He cleared his throat again. "Maybe we could spend some time together?"

"Rafael has an event planned for Sunday. He's going to expect me to play hostess."

He felt like slamming his palm into his head. "O-of course, I already knew that."

"It was nice of you to ask me." She smiled, that devastatingly wide smile that had first sent his head spinning, and he felt his heart skip. "Maybe some other time?"

He nodded, swallowed. "Sure. Of course." Tried to sound casual like. The way she obviously was about the whole thing. No doubt he wasn't the first man she had cheated on her husband with. He hadn't been able to dig up anything about that but he was sure there had been previous lovers. After all, Rafael hadn't been exactly faithful to his wife either. Even now, he was currently in Los Angeles on a business trip, on an inspection of the Marabella hotel there. Only the person receiving him wasn't the manager Lachlan Moore – who was out of town – but his wife, a tall blonde named Petra Moore. And Michael had photo evidence that her business meetings with Rafael extended to the bedroom.

Michael never asked about her husband. No, that was a patent lie. Of course, he asked her about her husband. Officially, as part of his investigation, Michael had asked her many times about her husband, and what she knew about the underground activities of the Marabella group of companies. But here, now, in this space of life that they shared behind closed doors, they never spoke of the elephant in the room.

Now, he watched her pull on her coat, his heart pounding as he wondered when he'd see her again. Whenever that would be. Michael never knew. She called all the shots in their relationship. When to meet, how long she'd stay.

The words spilled out without his permission. "Do you love him?"

Her fingers froze on her buttons, and she stared at him with an inscrutable expression on her face. "Does it matter?"

"Just tell me," he said.

She considered, for a moment, then her face took on a hazy, faraway look, her gaze obviously turning towards the past. "I thought I did, in the beginning. Do you know? He was the first man I ever kissed. I thought he was the one I was waiting for." Then her face hardened as she returned to the present, and she laughed a little. Bitterly. "Then I found out that I was just a bet he made with his friend."

"What do you mean?" he pressed.

Her face changed again, this time to a playful look. "Are you interrogating me, Detective Cordero? Maybe I should get my lawyer."

"I'm not. I won't-"

She smiled. "I know. It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you some other time."

"Tell me now," he insisted. And then he said everything that he wanted to say. "Don't go back to Rafael. Stay with me."

Surprise – joy – pain – they all seemed to fight for dominance on her face. Then she turned away. "I can't leave my son."

"If I find his connection to this Sin Rostro syndicate, I'll put him away…"

She laughed, bitterly again. "Men like Rafael don't go to prison. He'll find a way or he'll flee the country. And he'll take Mateo. I think his son is about the only person besides himself he truly loves." She looked at him, and her eyes shone with unshed tears. He reached for her, but she backed away. "And anywhere Mateo goes, I'll follow."

She turned to walk – all but ran to the door. He was on his feet at once, chasing her down his miniscule apartment. She reached for the door handle and he caught it, stopping her.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to upset you," he insisted. "But I…" And there was no point holding it back. "I'm falling for you. Hard." It was his turn to laugh bitterly, his words an understatement to the way his heart was pounding now. "This…" He waved his hand between them. "It's not just sex. I've never felt this way about anyone else. I didn't think it was possible to feel this way about anyone, really."

And now tears were falling in earnest down her cheeks. "Michael, don't."

He reached for her, feeling his heart tearing at the sight of her pain. "Jane…"

"No," she cried, and shoved him. Her miniscule strength barely budged him, but he stayed back. "Don't _do_ this. Don't… Why didn't I meet you first?" The last was said almost in a whisper, so soft that he wondered later if he had heard right.

"Jane," he tried again, his hands found her cheeks, wiped away her tears with his thumbs, her skin soft underneath his hands.

She shook her head, as if shaking off her weakness, and swiped his hands away. "This was… a mistake. I wanted some fun and you've gone and ruined it."

"No," he said hoarsely. "Don't do that. Don't try to diminish what we have."

"We have nothing," she said, her voice was hard. "This is over."

Her words sent him reeling, enough that she managed to yank his door open and leave before he could stop her.

He watched her walking rapidly to the car waiting for her, the one she must have arranged to be there at that time, and he felt his heart breaking.

And even then, it might have been enough if Jane hadn't turned to look back. But she did. And he could see the devastation on her face as she stared at his house.

It calmed Michael at once. Her hurtful words were her own way of protecting him. Well, it was time for him to do the same for her.

Jane was right. Justice never ran its course for me like her husband. So Michael knew what he had to do.

Michael would have to kill Rafael Solano.

* * *

 **AU** where Rafael called Jane after their first kiss. They dated, Jane got pregnant and they got married. But they clearly didn't live happily ever after. Sorry, I couldn't use the Latin Lover Narrator-style to tell this chapter, but he doesn't do angst. And it's not obvious but this is pre-cancer Rafael who was a whole 'nother animal.


End file.
